Walls
by Aiden Aterangelus
Summary: A drabble that grew in to a series. HarryRon, as all my stuff is.
1. Walls Ron's POV

Name: Walls

Pairing: Harry/Ron

A/N: A short drabble that grew into a series of drabbles. A bit angsty.

The walls built slowly. It was omitted truths at first, then euphemisms, but before I knew it, I was outright lying to my friends on a daily basis. I remember when I first knew, I mean really _knew,_ that it wasn't Lavender, or Parvati, or Hermione that I wanked off to.

When I first realized that the unnamed face I saw with my closed eyes was Seamus. Or it was Harry. Or even Neville, on one particularly depserate day. I told myself that they would hate me, and I locked it all up inside, tighter than you can imagine.

I laid down a brick.

And when Dean told me I got the attractive girls to the Yule Ball, I told him it was animal magnetism.

And I laid down a brick.

They laughed, but it hurt to lie to my friends.

It starts out so simple, though. Because in order to cover up, you have to swing the other way, right? So when Dean says Lavender's nice, I've got to say she's fit.

That's a brick.

She's irresistable.

That's a brick.

Before long, the walls are so strong saying it out loud to yourself even sounds ridiculous. You stand in front of the mirror, and can't even bring yourself to say the words aloud.

And that's a brick.

And suddenly you can't just wait for Dean to bring up the conversation anymore. So you bring up new girls, from the magazines Seamus keeps under his mattress.

That's a brick.

You bring up new stories about sex.

And that's a brick.

It would almost be funny, were it not so pitiful. Everybody in Gryffindor's convinced I'm the most sex-crazed man in Hogwarts, and they couldn't be more wrong. But I can't dissuade them of that image.

And that's the wall.

Because then they'd know that I love Harry.

And the wall couldn't defend me.

Then they'd know that it's not just in a brotherly way.

And the wall wouldn't protect me.

And then they'd come at me for it. And it doesn't matter that he's said he loves men. It doesn't matter that he's said he's gay. Because the walls don't break, once they're up.

And that's the problem.


	2. Earthquake Harry's POV

Title: Earthquake

Author: Aidendavis

Pairing: Harry/Ron

Warnings/Kinks: The warning, again, is that there are no kinks.

A/N: Harry's POV. I couldn't leave things as they were, now could I?

Sequel to Walls

I've never wanted to be the earthquake, it just sort of happened. At the Dursley's, conflict, change, disturbance, all meant the cupboard.

I shook up the class when I turned the teacher's wig blue. I went to the cupboard.

I shook up Dudley when I appeared on the roof. I went to the cupboard.

I broke down the glass wall at the zoo. I went to the cupboard.

And when I escaped the cupboard, everyone _expected _me to be the earthquake.

They told me that they expected great things, that I had a lot to live up to, and they always stared at the scar.

And I did shake things up, because I had to. I had to shake the Stone from the grasp of Voldemort.

Under the ground, I destroyed Riddle's diary, and the Basilisk; I had to.

And the earthquake brought silence when my name came out of the Goblet.

And I shook the dorm when _I_ came out.

I never wanted to be the earthquake.

Then I saw it. It was only for a moment, in his eyes, before a glib remark.  
But I saw it. It flashed faster than a look of surprise on Snape's face; but it was more apparent than Dumbledore's twinkle. In his eyes, an unadulterated lust.  
Only for a moment, I saw passion as red as his hair in eyes as blue as the lake, and then it was gone, behind a wall of the hardest glass.

But glass shatters in earthquakes. And this one might just be a 10.0 on the Richter scale.


	3. Wind Hermione's POV

Sequel to Earthquake, which is a sequel to Walls.

They told me that I was a whirlwind when they pushed me forward a year in school. And I took it to heart.

So when people told me my hair was bushy, I told them it was 'wind-swept.'  
When teachers stepped forward to challenge me, I stepped forward and blew through their assignments.

When I found out that slavery was still practised at Hogwarts, I howled at the top of my lungs; but except for Dobby, it might as well have been a whistle.

But I learned, after yelling _so_ often, that I had to be careful with Harry and Ron.  
The stronger, the longer I railed upon them, the stronger their resolve became to resist or exclude me.

With Harry and Ron, you've got to be subtle. A silent, observing breeze passing by, and occasionally whispering things in their ears so quietly they'll think it was their idea. And _that_ is frustrating. And it doesn't always work, either. The number of times I whipped between Harry and Ron, trying to affect a reconciliation, left me dizzy.

Too many times have I been the observer; and I think Harry knows, now, when I'm the silent suggestion in his ear. I'm sick and tired of being that.

Especially once I saw it. They both tried to hide for a long time. Harry finally spoke up, and nothing happened. I know he was hoping for a knight in shining armor. I know he was hoping for Ron to see it in his eyes, take him in his arms, and ride off together. And I know that Ron's emotional intelligence being roughly the equivalent of a yak's is going to stop that from happening.

I pushed, gentle quiet and solid breezes, with the occasional frustrated gust of 'honestly,' but nothing happened. Ron didn't peek the cracks and see it, and Harry didn't shake himself free of his own visions.

Sometimes the wind has to be extra sly. And about as subtle as a brick. Or Ron. Take your pick, they're essentially the same.

It was a simple potion to brew. The book called it by it's popular name: Drunken Draught. For about ten minutes, it simulates the effects of alcohol on the drinker. Fortunately, it has about a thirty minute waiting period. It was surprisingly easy to slip into their drinks.

So when they went up to their empty dorm room, feeling light-headed and empty of inhibitions, all I had to do was whisper a locking charm at the door. And a privacy spell, for good measure.

And if either of them _ever_ hurts the other, I will not hesitate to blow him away.


End file.
